


Let You Down

by bookworm213



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avatar Book II, Food Issues, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, Iroh being a good dad, Malnutrition, Other, Post the Chase and Bitter Work, Self Loathing, Shame, Starvation, Zuko cares about his Uncle, but pre The Desert, hunger, wump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:28:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25540567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookworm213/pseuds/bookworm213
Summary: Still, they’d have much less here if Zuko hadn’t been skipping meals. He’d been giving nearly all the food to his uncle over the past few days, making up constant excuses along the way. That he had eaten earlier, or he wasn’t hungry. Anything to keep Iroh from catching onto the truth. And anyway, his injured uncle needed the food more than Zuko ever could.[And deep down, there was the feeling that Zuko didn’t deserve it.]
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 332





	Let You Down

**Author's Note:**

> So, if course I've fallen back in love with atla since it hit Netflix, so of course I needed to write an angsty fic featuring my absolute fav character!! Don't worry guys I'm still writing my buckynat vampire au, but in the meantime I present my first fanfic that isn't in the Marvel fandom. Hooray!
> 
> I love comments, btw! <3

Zuko wasn’t used to being hungry.

As a prince of the Fire Nation, he had his pick of delicacies delivered from the royal kitchen. Whenever he felt the least bit hungry, a steaming platter of food would appear as if magically, delivered by an invisible servant who disappeared as quickly as they’d come. Not to mention the royal feasts that were thrown in honor of prominent military victories, where tables were piled with food as far as Zuko’s young eyes could see. 

Even after his banishment, he had still eaten well. He’d had a chef who was a master of saving money, so even when Zuko and his uncle were short on funds, a good meal would still be scrounged up from the local market place of whatever backwater they were currently docked at. Zuko would complain sometimes, if the fare wasn’t as rich as he was accustomed. He would berate the chef for not giving the crown prince the food that he deserved, before throwing the plate of food on the ground at storming out, his uncle staring after him resignedly.

He hadn’t been hungry then, truly hungry. 

Now, thinking back to those plates of food he’d tossed to the ground, the banished prince would have given anything to lick the scraps off the cabin floor. 

The thought disgusts him, but he can’t help it. He hasn’t eaten in days and then sun is scorching his skin and his uncle is moaning in pain on the ostrich horse behind him because of Azula’s blast which Zuko should’ve seen coming and stopped but he was too damn slow and useless-

“Zuko.” The prince felt Iroh’s hand come up to touch his shoulder. His uncle’s voice was thick with pain, his entire left side clumsily bandaged by Zuko to cover the angry wound Azula had given him. “Nephew, we need to stop, and rest.”

It had to be late afternoon by now. They had been riding since dawn, and Iroh could no longer handle a full day of riding without a break. Not when he was in this kind of pain. 

So Zuko sighed and pulled on the ostrich horse’s reigns, bringing them to a stop in a deserted clearing littered with weeds and a few boulders. As good a place as any to set up camp for the night.

Zuko’s stomach rumbled loudly as he dismounted. He gritted his teeth, his hand instinctively pressing against it as though that would stop the pain that had been gnawing at his gut for days, weeks even. Luckily, Iroh didn’t seem to notice his nephew’s discomfort, as he had quickly hobbled towards a rock and sat down, rubbing his injured shoulder. 

Maybe Zuko should’ve let the water tribe girl help them. In that moment nearly a week ago, his mind had gone white-hot with rage and shame. Hatred for Azula, for the Avatar and his friends, and shame for himself. For allowing that blast to hit his uncle. He couldn’t stand having the Avatar and his group witness his failure, his dishonor. So he’d refused their help, and drove them away with a fire blast. But now, looking at his Uncle, he found himself regretting it. 

Even injured, his uncle had been patient with him, trying to teach him lightning, and when that failed, teaching him to redirect it. They hadn’t spoken of that night, when Zuko had gone out into the storm, shouting at the sky to strike him down. When he failed, he’d returned to camp soaking wet and defeated. Iroh had merely given him one of their only blankets and sat him close to the fire. He hadn’t said a word. 

Zuko walked towards the small knapsack hanging by the side of their ostrich horse. He reached inside and took out a small sack of rice, a few pieces of stale bread, and some almost rotten fruit. He grimaced as he took note of just how minuscule their food supply was. They had scavenged what they could from the abandoned town, but it had been days since they’d found another person, much less a town or a market, and they couldn’t hold out like this for much longer. 

Still, they’d have much less here if Zuko hadn’t been skipping meals. He’d been giving nearly all the food to his uncle over the past few days, making up constant excuses along the way. That he had eaten earlier, or he wasn’t hungry. Anything to keep Iroh from catching onto the truth. And anyway, his injured uncle needed the food more than Zuko ever could. 

[And deep down, there was the feeling that Zuko didn’t deserve it.]

So no matter how much his stomach protested, he portioned out enough for his uncle from their dwindling rations, and set about making a fire. 

Iroh watched him silently, too worn out to speak. That in itself was worrisome. His uncle was never quiet. 

Finally, he spoke. “Zuko, come and sit with me,” Iroh patted a rock next to him. 

The prince sighed, but moved from where the flame had just started to sputter and grow to sit beside the old man. Iroh looked Zuko up and down, his eyebrow raised.

“You’re looking thinner nephew, are you feeling alright?” 

Zuko looked at him dully. “I’m fine uncle.”

“Your face is like bone, Zuko. I haven’t seen you eat these past few days. Don’t neglect your own body just for my sake. A boy your age needs to eat.” 

His eyes were pleading, but Zuko just looked away. “I said I’m fine Uncle.” He deliberately hardened his voice, cutting of his last word with a razor sharp edge. 

Iroh was silent for a moment, and Zuko took advantage. He stood up. “I need to make the food now,” He said briskly, turning away and walking at a quick pace back toward the fire. 

The rice needed to be cooked, and Zuko was quick to fill their only cooking pot with water and place it over the flame. Once the smell of the cooking rice reached his nose, his stomach decided to make itself known by twisting and growling loudly, sending waves of dire hunger through his body.

He mentally cursed it, bringing his hand against his abdomen and rubbing it as though that had a chance of soothing it. He glanced across the clearing to see if his uncle had taken notice. But no, uncle was still sitting on his rock, absently rubbing his shoulder and staring off in another direction. Good.

He didn’t think he would ever get used to feeling this hungry. Once a few weeks ago, having left his uncle and traveling alone through arid lands, he’d nearly keeled over from starvation. His hunger nearly caused him to do something awful. He was no stranger to stealing out of desperation, and when he’d smelled the scent of cooking meat coming from a ravine below him, he’d instinctively grabbed his dao swords, intent on stealing the food fill his own stomach. But when he saw a woman with a swollen, pregnant belly, he couldn’t go through with it. He’d dropped his eyes and continued riding, shame now gnawing at his insides along with his hunger.

Later he’d stumbled into an Earth Kingdom town and a family had taken him in, being kind enough to feed and house him for the night. But even that had ended badly. Just like everything seemed to.

The water in the pot began to boil over a bit, startling Zuko from his thoughts. He hurriedly emptied the warm, fluffy rice into a cracked clay bowl, and gathered up a piece of the bread and a piece of fruit that wasn’t too mushy. 

It was incredible how just a few months ago, the prince would have turned up his nose at such a meal. Now, even the sight of the fruit starting to go soft and rotten made Zuko’s mouth water uncontrollably. 

He took the bowl to his uncle, who had, despite his nephew thinking the contrary, been discreetly watching as the food cooked. 

“Here uncle, eat,” Zuko said quietly as he handed Iroh the bowl with the rice, bread, and fruit, along with a pair of chipped chopsticks.

Iroh put the bowl aside immediately, fixing Zuko with a hard stare. “Where is your food, nephew?”

“I’m not hungry.” Zuko tried to meet Iroh’s steely gaze, praying that his stomach would stay quiet and not decide to betray him. 

“I won’t eat a bite until I see you eat, Prince Zuko. I will not have my nephew starve himself out of pride.” Uncle crossed his arms, raising a challenging eyebrow.

“It’s not pride, uncle!” Zuko snapped, his composure finally breaking. “We’ll be out of food in days unless we ration it! Your injuries still aren’t fully healed and you need it more! And for the love of agni I told you I’m not hungry so eat your food before I have to force it down your throat!”

Harsh as those words were, there was a lot left unsaid.

[I wasn’t fast enough I let Azula shoot you I abandoned you in the woods I don’t deserve to eat I don’t-]

Iroh was silent. Zuko glared at him, his chest still heaving a little from his outburst. They both stared each other down for what seemed like forever, neither of them willing to budge.

Finally, after nearly an eternity, Iroh reached for the bowl. Zuko’s shoulder’s slumped in relief when his uncle shoveled a mouthful of rice into his mouth. The sky had darkened by now, and the stars had already begun to wink their way into the sky.

“I’m going to bed.” Zuko turned on his heel and walked away from his uncle, away from the campfire, to a small area at the edge of the clearing, partially shielded by boulders where he might have a little privacy [away from uncle’s accusatory eyes]. 

The prince lay down, drawing his knees up to his chest. Whatever adrenaline that had briefly possessed his body during his outburst faded away in an instant, and he was left again with the exhaustion and the hollow, gnawing ache. His stomach began rumbling again, the noise sounding pathetic in his ears, and his hands instinctively clutched it, kneading it roughly as though he could crush the hunger pangs with his bare hands. He scrunched his eyes shut, praying desperately that sleep would come quickly so he could have a brief respite from the hunger. 

After a few minutes, he noticed that his hands, still kneading his empty stomach, were trembling ever so slightly.

I just need rest, he thought to himself, pushing any and all other explanations aside. Soon, his mind began to darken with exhaustion, and he embraced it gratefully as he drifted off into sleep.

————————————————————————————

Unfortunately, Zuko’s sleep was fitful at best. He dreamed of watching his uncle get shot by Azula, the cry that emerged from his throat as he saw him go down. And then Azula was a child again, taunting him in that high pitched voice about his father’s plans to murder him. And then he dreamed of being served an banquet in the royal throne room, platters and platters of delicacies being held up for him to try, the wonderful smells filling his nose . . .

Zuko had been lifting the first bite of roasted cow hippo to his mouth when he was pulled from his dreams. 

The sun was starting to crest the sky, which meant they would have to get moving soon. He groaned as he sat up, before nearly falling back to the ground again.

The trembling, which had started in his hands, had extended to all four of his limbs. His head swam, making the morning sky blur before his eyes as he struggled to sit upright. 

Zuko took a deep breath, straightening his arms as he desperately tried to get to his feet. He finally managed to push himself off the ground, but when he did, a wave of dizziness overwhelmed him so intensely that he had to spend a few minutes leaning against a boulder, waiting for the world to stop spinning. 

The hollow feeling in his stomach made him want to retch out what wasn’t there. How long had it been since he’d eaten?

By now, it’d had to have been at least three days, maybe four. The prince gritted his teeth.

After a while, he’d managed to stumble out from his sleeping place. His uncle was already awake, neatly folding his blanket and idly petting the ostrich horse, who was enjoying her breakfast. 

Upon hearing footsteps, Iroh turned to face his nephew, and his eyes widened. “Prince Zuko-“

“I’m fine!” Zuko spat, standing as tall as he dared so that his uncle wouldn’t see the trembling in his arms and legs. “We need to get moving.” 

Uncle looked like he wanted to protest, but before he could Zuko had hosted himself on the ostrich horse and flicked the reigns. Uncle had no choice but to climb on after his nephew as they rode off. 

Zuko held out for as long as he could, but a few hours later and he was starting to falter. His arms were trembling so strongly that he could barely hold the reigns, and his vision was clouded with dots that swam and obscured the road in front of him.

His stomach had long ceased the courtesy of being quiet, and was roiling and growling loud enough that his uncle could no doubt hear. But the old man was silent behind him.

Zuko closed his eyes and tried to fight each wave of dizziness that threatened to overwhelm him. The sun, what used to be the greatest source of his strength, was now beating down unforgivably on him, weakening him even more.

His stomach gave one last futile protest for food before he went under. The last thing Zuko remembered was the sun and the road tilting before his eyes rolled back into his head and he passed out. 

——————————————————————————————-

“Zuko!”

It was his uncle’s voice. Zuko groaned and opened his eyes the tiniest crack. 

He was lying on the side of the road, uncle kneeling beside him. Zuko closed his eyes again, ready to drift back into unconsciousness, until he felt something against his lips. 

It was a piece of bread, hardened and stale, but to him it might as well have been one of the rarest delicacies the palace kitchens could procure. Zuko’s stomach roared in hunger and the prince, for once, didn’t hesitate to bite into the food and chew hurriedly before going in for another mouthful.

“Easy now.” The bread was replaced by a jug of water and Zuko drank thirstily, before Iroh held out the bread again. Zuko ate, trying to take slow, measured bites, before the bread was gone and the trembling in his limbs and the dizziness had started to subside.

“Uncle,” he whispered, his amber eyes apologetic, but Iroh just shook his head and gave him a smile. 

“You gave me quite a scare, my nephew. But now you must rest, and eat.” He took a piece of fruit from the knapsack and lifted it to his nephew’s lips.

Zuko ate until the fruit was gone, until his limbs had finally stopped shaking and his stomach felt full for the first time in weeks. 

“I’m sorry uncle,” he whispered, the words conveying his apology for so much more than what had happened today. 

“Nephew, you mustn’t let shame drive your actions, that road only leads to destruction.” Iroh’s gentle voice soothed Zuko as the water jug was once more brought to his lips. He drank again, and closed his eyes, the feeling of being full and exhaustion pulling him under. 

“Rest, Prince Zuko. We’ll travel again when you’re rested. None of what happened was your fault . . .” Uncle’s voice drifted against Zuko's ear.

As the prince drifted off into sleep, he almost believed him.


End file.
